Never Enough
by Sis Spiffy
Summary: The night Sam escaped to Flagstaff to embrace his freedom, Dean had to deal with the fact he had no chance at freedom. John Winchester takes his anger out on Dean, but better him than Sam. After all, what are big brothers for?


I do not own Supernatural, or anything related to it.

**Warning: **Contains descriptions of abuse, and mentions of spoilers from S5 E16 "Dark Side of the Moon."

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"Your fault! Your fault!"

The shouted words hurt worse than the beatings, but Dean took them both with a set jaw. He had to be strong for Sam, now more than ever. He was all that stood between Sam and Dad if the younger man came back. But for now, Sam was gone, and just for a brief moment, Dean wished he'd gone with him. Away from Dad. Dean only wished he was strong enough.

His father's roars brought him back to reality and Dean watched him tentatively. His father sneered when they locked eyes. The hateful anger in his dad's eyes cut him. Cut him deep.

"You were supposed to watch him! You were supposed to keep Sam safe! You useless son of a bitch! Can't you do anything right?"

Each word was like a slap. Dean's eyes fixated on the wall opposite as he steeled himself for the abuse that followed.

The slap stung, and the punch that followed made his jaw pop. Dean stiffened as his dad pinned him to the wall by his forearms and continued screaming at his son.

"How could you let him go? _This is all your fault!_ If you were a better brother, if you _cared_, he would still be here!"

Dean avoided his father's eyes. He couldn't bear to look into them. Hate, anger, disappointment, rage, hostility. All directed at his own blood. Shame grew deep in the pit of Dean's gut as his father's words buried themselves there.

Why wasn't he good enough? Why was he never good enough?

His dad's voice grew low and ominous, "Look into my eyes when I'm talking to you, son." He tightened the grip on his son's arms when the young man hesitated.

It took all of Dean's power to bring his expressionless eyes up to meet the raging ones of his dad. Once their eyes met, John was hit with a fresh wave of anger.

"You little bitch." He buried his fist in Dean's stomach, hard enough to double the young man. John forced him back up and hissed in his face, "Not strong enough. Never strong enough. You weak, weak boy. I'm ashamed."

With those finals words his father shoved him back against the wall and left the motel room.

Cold silence wrapped around the room, and for once Dean felt the harsh slap of loneliness. Sammy was gone. His little brother was gone in his quest to be a man.

Lonely. Lonely. Lonely. Dean's one and only constant was gone. Sam was no longer there to love. To protect. To depend on.

He sat down on the bed, rubbing his stomach while his eyes watched the door wistfully. It would be so easy to leave. Leave his father. Leave this life. It was too easy. But he could never do it.

As much as Dean hated to admit it, he watched the door for his dad to come back. He yearned for the day where his dad would turn to him with a smile on his face and say, "I'm proud of you, Dean."

But the day would never come, and he knew it. Today was just another harsh reminder of that morose reality. Dean Winchester would never be good enough for his dad.

The fact burned a hole in his gut. He tried so hard, day in, day out to please his dad. But it would never work. He was the complacent child. The one who obeyed. The one who didn't ask questions. He was not worthy of his father's praise.

Dean dragged himself to the bathroom and splashed water on his face to wash away the blood from his split lip. He looked up into the mirror and had to look away to reduce the temptation of smashing the glass.

Dean Winchester was disgusted by himself. He strived to be like his father, but they were nothing alike. All he saw in his reflection was weakness. He wasn't strong enough. He never would be.

Sammy ran away on his watch. And no matter how much he wanted to, Dean couldn't bring himself to blame Sam. He wanted Sam to be out. He wanted Sam to have a decent life. But Dean also wanted his brother. It was selfish and it was weak, but Dean wished Sam and Dad would both come back through that door. He wanted things to go back to normal.

Bringing his eyes back up to the mirror again, Dean's shoulders sagged in dejection. The mirror reflected a child in a man's body. Insecurity and self-loathing hid behind the mask of an adult face. In that moment, Dean was as vulnerable as he'd ever felt. Dad had beat him before, and yelled before, but Sammy was always there. When they were younger, Sammy would always come over and place his hand on Dean's shoulder, or climb into bed with him that night and whisper encouragements to him. Now that they were older, the words went unspoken, but that was alright with Dean. He could read it all in Sam's face. Their relationship was forged on the understanding that these boys were forced to rely on each other. The bond ran deep and both Sam and Dean accepted the roles they had to fill. San was the lover and Dean had to play the fighter. Dean carried the weight of the world on his shoulders so Sammy didn't have to touch it. He held the shield so Sam wasn't hurt and the whole time, Sam hid behind his older brother whispering the words of encouragement Dean desperately needed to get out of bed and put on his armor.

Sam was always there. Except tonight. The crashing reality came down on Dean in that moment. Sam hadn't left to get a taste of freedom and escape Dad. Sammy left because he wasn't happy. The truth hurt worse than any punishment that his dad could give him. Dean felt sick to his stomach, nauseous from betrayal. The one person he could count on had left him. And it was all Dean's fault. Why couldn't he be better. _Why?_ If only he has been stronger, better, wiser, he could have made Sam happy. If only. But it was too late. He just wasn't enough for Sammy. Dean was never enough. Not for his brother, not for his dad. And now Dean was truly alone. Alone with a father who didn't care. Alone with his own self-hatred. So terribly alone. Dean's lip trembled in his reflection, and this time he did smash the mirror.

Dean ignored the blood that ran down his knuckles as he aggressively slammed the door and left the motel room behind him as a bad memory.

His head hung low and his shoulders sagged, but Dean kept walking. He needed away. He needed a drink.

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Thanks for reading! Have a wonderful day.


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